


Power, Secrets and Lies

by entanglednow



Category: Primeval
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-09
Updated: 2007-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-10 07:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/463565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lester is closed, until he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lester's car is a crushed, considerably less expensive, version of itself against the side of a tree. Ryan had dragged Lester out of the wreck twenty minutes ago, irritated but oddly unwilling to complain. A long gash has painted one side of his face red and he's still holding one arm like he's wary of it being jostled. His driver is dead, there hadn't been enough space in the front end for both steering wheel and chest. Lester has chosen not to complain about this either. He's currently sitting on a case of ammunition while Captain Ryan very carefully moves his head into an angle where he can see what he's doing.

Ryan would have bet money on Lester being a whiner, of breathing every hint of complaint that he could get away with in this situation. But he doesn't make a sound, he simply tilts his head to accommodate every swipe of antiseptic, barely flinches when Ryan presses against the edge of a cut that he has already taken three pieces of glass out of. It's a good four inches long and deep in two places, even with the butterfly stitches from the first aid kit it's going to leave a scar.

It finishes in a long thin curl against the edge of Lester's top lip, and for a change his mouth is relaxed and ever so slightly open and not sneering at all. It makes a great deal of difference to Lester's face. There is less disdain, and no sense of self-importance, instead there's an uncertainty to his relaxed expression. Ryan suspects that he needs to scowl to avoid looking like a public school boy that's just been told off. Which is a thought that's liable to make him smile inappropriately while he attempts to salvage the line of Lester's cheek

It's why he misses the slim hand winding round the back of his neck, pulling him in with steady but determined force, from anyone else the intention would be perfectly clear but Ryan takes a fraction of a second to make absolutely sure. By then it's too late and that strange, different mouth is pressed against his own, softer than Ryan would ever have expected.

It's also open and Ryan is not a man who lets opportunity pass him by. Lester smells expensive but he tastes like coffee and contrary to all expectations he knows how to kiss, knows how to kiss very well in fact, and surprise is always an advantage.

Lester pulls away before Ryan can quite decide which of them won. He licks his lips and Lester watches him do it, one eyebrow carefully raised. Point for Lester then.

"Why did you do that?" Ryan has to ask, because he can't not, he deals in specifics after all, and this is unexpected.

"You'd been watching my mouth for more than a minute," Lester says quietly. "You never struck me as the indecisive type but I suppose appearances can be deceptive." He sniffs, lifts his sunglasses and very carefully slides them back on. The drag of one metal leg against the fresh wound does provoke a grimace, which makes his face suddenly familiar again.

Ryan decides he quite likes it anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

Power is a curious thing, a notoriously unstable pedestal that, more often then not, destroys those it creates.

Power makes you do things you shouldn't, makes you do things not always because you want them but because you can have them, because it's easy. Even if sometimes it's a ridiculously stupid something. A ridiculously reckless something.

James Lester has very few weaknesses.

Captain Ryan, he thinks, might be one of them. He tastes like mint and metal and all of the angry pointed things Ryan wants to say but doesn't and he opens under Lester's mouth in a way he shouldn't. In a way that still surprises him when he has to think about it.

They have twenty minutes before his driver comes back to the car and there is not enough room for Ryan in the backseat let alone both of them

They don't do first names, because they are not friends, but this, apparently this is something they are both quite capable of and though Ryan does not like him very much his hands are still dragging Lester's shirt out of his slacks, pushing rough and impossibly smooth up the skin of his back.

They are jarringly, absurdly mismatched, and yet they seem to fit in simple, inelegant ways. Ways that leave Ryan with scratches down his back and scatters of bruises across Lester's pale thighs.

He's become entirely too used to Ryan's hands, to the way the man pushes without even realising it, and to the way he kisses when he's angry, unafraid to bite and dig his hand so deep in Lester's hair that every word breaks in his throat.

Lester knows he can stop this at any time, can cut these moments out of his life, redraw some distance between them and turn this curiously mutual thing they have into animosity. At the moment he has no intention of doing so. It's something he started, something he will push because he can. Something selfish and greedy, which in his line of work is only to be expected.


	3. Chapter 3

Ryan likes to run his thumb over the curve of Lester’s mouth, likes to still the flow of words until Lester is forced to scowl at him and look thoroughly unamused. But he won't pull away, he'll let Ryan drag his thumb over it until it's wet and pressed against his teeth until it's red and far too tempting not to slide down and taste.

He'll let him ask questions with his eyes because they are not men who talk about things like this. They are not men who complicate things that should be simple, and are liable to leave complications ignored rather than try and untangle them.

They are not men who bend easily, so every single second Ryan has that mouth wrapped round his cock is a breathless, ragged moment when all he can do is watch, held on the edge. Until he can't breathe, until every wet slide is some sort of obscene torture. Lester will look nothing like he should do, eyes impossibly dark, mouth a curve of threat and greed and pleasure, and it's more than a struggle not to break, holding it long enough that it hurts. Long enough that his hands will wander disobediently into Lester's deceptively soft hair and pull.

It will be a moment of power that lasts long enough for him to fall off of the edge. A moment that will drag him over with tangled hands and the wet awkward slide of tongue, and though he'll be punished for it, it will be sweet; so fucking sweet. He'll keep this truth behind his teeth rather than lose it.

Lester will shove Ryan's thighs apart like he can, like he owns him and he'll keep that haughty, arrogant expression while he drags groans out of Ryan's body, while he slides up against him and inside him, all soft skin and long slender limbs that make Ryan do everything with a look and a push and he'll be so bloody detached while he fucks him. Even though his mouth is red and his nails are dug in Ryan's hips and when Ryan kisses him he'll taste like the most expensive kind of whore.

He'll fuck like one too, sharp and hard, too quick and too rough and Lester will make soft noises through his teeth that Ryan wants so badly to taste.

Noises that he knows will make him come when he fucks his own hand, and Lester will not even pretend that he doesn't watch, doesn't dig his fingers into Ryan's thighs, words locked behind harsh breathing and long helpless shoves of his hips.

But even when they eventually separate they're quiet, folded back into their own compartments too quickly to tell the difference.

Though sometimes when it's dark enough for it not to matter Lester will call him Tom and sometimes, when nothing else seems appropriate, Ryan will call him James.


	4. Chapter 4

If there are no words then there are no lies, it seems simple enough, and there are very few words involved in this thing they have tangled themselves up in, Ryan is a man who appreciates the simplicity and directness of words. But Lester is a man who builds castles out of them, weaves them into abstract shapes that bear no resemblance to the originals. So they leave all but the simplest of words at the door.

But words are not the only things that lie.

Lester is lying right now, though not a word has passed his lips. His long pale legs are straddling Ryan's waist, back a long pale curve under Ryan's fingers. He twitches and shivers under every scrape of nails across flesh, inhaling sharply through his nose when Ryan dares to pull just a little too hard, and his eyes will still be lying even when his skin cannot. 

Lester's eyes say this means nothing but his long, sharp fingers will slide on Ryan's cock until every single breath is a groan shaken out of him, Lester's mouth open and soft, slicked ever so often by the pass of his tongue.

Until Ryan's too far gone to care.

"Come here," he says fiercely, and Lester's eyebrow rises, querying the assumption that he is amenable to being ordered about.

He leans in reluctantly, and this is another lie, and he'll let Ryan catch his hair and push his mouth open like it was his idea all along, and it's so easy to take like this, to pull him in and roll enough to press him into the sheets. Until they're long naked lines folding where they can and pressing where they cannot, as close as it's possible to be without fucking.

Ryan knows he's the heavier, but Lester is not easy to pin down and everything about him is sharp and brittle even when he's quiet. It's like navigating a minefield of caution and feigned disapproval but Ryan has always enjoyed challenges even when they leave him bruised and stinging.

When he slides between his thighs there's a short catch of breath and Lester stops lying, stops hiding. He lets Ryan drag him down and push his thighs further apart, and though he'll be tense and silent and obscenely tight under the steady pressure of Ryan's fingers he will not lie. Instead there will be nails in Ryan's back and the long curve of a throat stretching under his mouth and there will be no more lies


End file.
